


Happiness Found Even In Setbacks

by GrimSylphie



Series: Finding Happiness [11]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker | Sebastien le Livre Whump, Domestic, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimSylphie/pseuds/GrimSylphie
Summary: Booker examines an artifact that makes him recall his own mortal demise so vividly that it triggers a panic attack. Fortunately for him, his family is there to get him through it.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Series: Finding Happiness [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875796
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	Happiness Found Even In Setbacks

**Author's Note:**

> Two parts ago I said I had a bit more fluff before angst but it turns out I lied. I wanted to show that Booker wasn’t magically cured by therapy. He has a setback that sends him into a little bit of a tailspin though he comes back probably a bit too easily.

The day the newly discovered artifacts arrived for cataloguing could not have been a worse day for Booker. He got the notice that they were ready just after lunch which meant he would probably have to stay late doing preliminary identification. He sent a text off to their family chat letting them know he might be a few minutes late getting home for family dinner and headed down to the archives to see what was found. 

As the museum’s chief archivist and a specialist in the Napoleonic Wars Booker was responsible for overseeing all of the items that had been brought in from a recent excavation of what had once been a camp in Russia. For the most part thus far they had found the the usual, musketballs, bayonets, the rare saber or knife, rope, cooking utensils, and occasionally buttons or scraps from a uniform if it had been particularly well preserved in the snow. It always made him shiver thinking of the time he spent up there, first marching slowly to his death and then dying quickly and repeatedly at the noose or of starvation and exposure until he found his way home. 

When Booker reached the archival vault he looked over the list of newly arrived items and found more of the same in the log of this shipment with a few notable exceptions. There was a book which was likely a pocket bible or text about Napoleon’s glory given it was carried on the journey through Russia. Booker knew without even examining it that it might not be salvageable. Also of note was some rope with bloodstains on it. That was unusual, since prisoners were usually hung, and quickly as it used the least amount of supplies. It would be unlikely that someone would bleed on the rope unless they were bound for a long period or died holding it. Booker marked those two item numbers as being of interest and set off to work.

With no other archivists working down in the vault that afternoon Booker had the run of the place. This made it easier to catalogue items quickly without interruption. When he checked his watch at almost the half way point it was 16:00. He thought for a moment that he might not be too late to dinner after all.

The next item on the list was the book. As Booker expected it was a faded little thing bound with a hardcover. He could see without opening it that it had taken severe water damage at some point and the pages were warped until they no longer laid flat. The cover was just barely legible. If Booker hadn’t been familiar with it he wasn’t certain he would be able to tell. It was a series of essays that served as propaganda for conscription to get them on board with the purpose of the Grande Armée. He had one once as well. He’s fairly certain he tossed it when he decided to desert. He marked down that it would need to be carefully examined if they wanted even a chance at preserving it and moved on, thinking nothing of it.

It wasn’t until nearly 17:00 when he ran across the next item of interest. What he saw made his heart stop as his body went cold. The bloody rope wasn’t just a rope, it was a noose. His mind started to race. He had seen countless nooses retrieved from Napoleonic encampments, especially in Russia where many had the same idea he did but they weren’t bloody and frayed at the spot a man’s neck would have been. They wouldn’t look as if a man struggled for his life until the skin on his hands was raw and blistered and the skin of his neck was torn away entirely. They wouldn’t look like this. 

That thought chilled Booker to his core. It made his rational mind retreat. It flung him back to the night of his first death and so many deaths after until he finally gained the strength to get down from eating a bird raw. He remembered the taste of feathers in his mouth and between his teeth. He remembered clawing his way to freedom and now it was like he was there. 

He dropped his clipboard fell to the floor. His phone clattered out of his pocket as he hit the ground and it took everything he had to fight through the memories and use it before he was pulled back under. He slammed the emergency contact button, unsure of which of his family it would call and uncaring. 

He curled his body up into a ball and laid there. The cold floor sending shivers down his spine. Soon his whole body was shaking as he tried to warm himself from the phantom cold. It hurt to breathe. It felt like he had been submerged in ice water and he couldn’t catch his breath. What’s worse was the tightness in his chest. It felt like he was being strangled and all he could do was claw at his neck to fend off the phantom sensations. He dug his fibers in so deep that he started to bleed but the wounds disappeared as quickly as they were made. The world around him was dark and he was alone.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there cold and tearing himself apart. It might have been a few minutes but for all he knew it had been a few hours. 

“Book? Book? You gotta breathe.”

The sound came through his phone as a whisper, the speaker feature wasn’t on and he didn’t have the energy to reach his hand out into the cold to turn it on. Besides, breathing was enough of a struggle without moving. 

“Sebastien. Breathe with me.”

He tried for a moment but he couldn’t hear the breathing on the other end. He tried to slow down but his breaths kept stuttering in and out as he heaved trying to get oxygen into his lungs. Black spots danced in his eyes and he was back there, the sterile white archival vault giving way to the Russian tundra with naught a tree or sign of life around. He was lost, he’d be lost there forever.

He felt warm hands surround him and pull him from is vision into strong arms. “You’re okay, you’re all right. Just breathe with me. Sebastien. In. Then Out. In. Then Out.” 

Booker curled into the warmth the other body provided. It took all he had to match the breathing of the familiar voice. Even longer for his vision to clear enough to see the world around him. He was still in the archival vault, his clipboard abandoned on the floor not far from where he was sitting. It was Joe’s body that cradled his, keeping him steady. 

“You back with me?” Joe asked, leaning down until his eyes met Booker’s. 

“Oui.” Booker shuddered our. Exhaustion overtaking him.

“All right, Nicky. He’s back with me. I think bringing an ambulance over at this point would probably be overkill. Just meet us at home.” Joe offered into Booker’s phone as he held it to his ear. Booker watched as Joe seemed to receive some sort of response “I’ll tell him. We love you too. See you soon.” He replied before hanging up and returning the phone to Booker’s pocket. “Nicky says, he’s glad you’re okay.” 

Booker looked down at himself, he was still shivering a bit, his fingers twitching. “Sorry I scared you guys.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Joe explained tucking Booker’s head under his chin. “You had a panic attack. We all have them from time to time given what we’ve seen. You managed to call us and we were able to help. That’s what’s important.”

Booker remembers for a moment Nicky’s panic attack after Joe was separated from them during a mission, it happened at home two weeks later when Joe had gone to the store without telling Nicky, who had been asleep. It wasn’t pretty. He’d seen Joe struggle after a mission here or there as well. 

“How did you get here?” Booker asked, trying to will his thoughts away from the subject of panic attacks and the cause. 

“You called Nicky while he was on break. He used the hospital phone to call me and I headed over from the gallery because I was closer and had better credentials. One of your co-workers reluctantly let me in.” Joe explained. 

Booker blushed, embarrassed and a bit ashamed at the thought of a co-worker seeing him like this. 

“Don’t worry. They didn’t follow me. They recognized me as your partner or one of them from the last meetup between all the museums in the city.” Joe explained. “I just had to exchange my credentials as collateral in case I damaged something, which of course I wouldn’t.” 

“They could get in trouble for that.” Booker offered.

“Yeah, but I think my panic over you won them over.” Joe helped Booker up to his feet. 

Booker’s legs felt like jelly. He felt worse than that time Andy dared him to run that marathon with the wine saying he couldn’t die of exhaustion or alcohol poisoning so why not try both. “Thanks, Yusuf.”

“No problem my love.” Joe smiled. “May I ask what triggered the attack or is it too soon?” 

Booker winced in response. He felt himself shake and just pointed to the clipboard with the inventory on it. He watched as Joe picked it up and examined where he left off and then found the item in question at the table next to where he collapsed.

“Oh, Bastien.” Joe looked to him, heartbreak in his voice. “You don’t think it could be?”

“No! No!” Booker shouted, louder than intended. “No. I don’t think so... or at least so don’t want to think so but how many reasons are there for a noose to be that bloody and frayed. Even if it wasn’t me, who was left to suffer on it.” He started to cry just thinking about it.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Joe swept him up into a hug. “I’m here, you’re here. It was awful but it’s over. You’re okay.” Joe soothes running a hand along his back until he finally started to quiet. He watched as Joe pulled away to look at him. “Let’s go home. You can have one of your minions finish the analysis.”

Booker nodded and allowed Joe to walk him out of the room. He felt numb and maybe a little tired. It was as if he had been run through a washer and was wrung out to dry. He let Joe hand the clipboard off to one of the junior archivists and saw her nod. Joe then returned and pulled him along out the building and all the way home. 

When they arrived home they found Nicky putting something in the oven while Nile helped André with homework. One thing they learned raising André was that their educations were somewhat lacking as far as the modern French educational system was concerned. With regards to Nicky that wasn’t surprising. His formal education began and ended with learning to read the Bible in Latin. Joe knew far more when they met including several languages and mathematics. Booker fell somewhere in the middle closer to Joe on the educational scale. During their immortal lives they had the privilege of learning so many things, Nicky even passed med school and had a working medical license but that didn’t prepare them for the broad base of knowledge required to help with geometry and history as told through a modern lens. That’s where Nile was a godsend. Whenever they were out of their depth with helping André she stepped up. Booker was confident things in their lives would have been improved by having Nile around sooner.

Their entrance caused everyone to look up, especially when Joe pulled Booker to the couch and made him sit down. Nicky shut the over and walked over, worry he must have been holding back now clear on his face. He pulled Booker into a hug and held him there for what seemed like an eternity and yet somehow was all to short when he finally pulled away.

“Are you all right, Sebastien? I was so worried when I got your call.” Nicky explained.

“Oui, my dear.” Booker saw André and Nile walking over, curious as to what had caused Nicky to have such a reaction. “I received artifacts that reminded me of a horrible incident in my youth and it triggered a panic attack. I think I was just completely unprepared since I work with similar artifacts all the time.” 

“Are you okay, papa? Do you need to see Dr. Auclair?” André asked. Booker had always been honest with André regarding his mental health, although he didn’t share the full details of his depression. He wanted to normalize mental health care for André in a way it had never been for him, so that André would never hit the lows that he had.

“No, but thank you for your concern, my sweet. It’s not an emergency. I’ll call her tomorrow and discuss whether or not it warrants moving my appointment up.” Booker responded cracking a tired smile for André. 

“Come on boys, let the man breathe on his own for a minute. We can hound him with questions over dinner.” Nile commanded, pulling the others back. It made Booker smile. She was a natural leader. He was certain he would be taking orders from her one day.

The rest of the family fell in line and tried to make dinner as normal as possible for him. Nicky asked if he was being overworked, he wasn’t. Nile inquired if this was a new trauma or something that had always been there. It was always there. Joe wanted to know what he wanted for dessert. Pie. Finally, André just needed to hear that he was okay. 

Soon enough Booker was able to redirect the conversation to Nile’s PhD studies, André’s football practice, and Nicky’s day at the clinic. They continued to glance at him every now and then but he held it together, the only sign of his day the exhaustion he felt. 

André was practically a teenager now and was far less cuddly than he had been but when Booker sat on the couch after dinner his son joined him and curled against him. Booker wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. He had a second chance at a family. He didn’t expect to find anyone again after his wife’s death. He had been surprised when he started to feel attraction towards Nicky and Joe all those years ago. Now though, he had them and a wonderful son. He could only hope that his son’s healing was a sign that he wouldn’t grow old or ill hating his father. 

These thoughts kept Booker’s mind occupied and he drifted through the rest of the night in a haze of introspection and exhaustion. It wasn’t until he finally laid down in bed, curled between Nicky and Joe as they sheltered his shirtless form from the cold that he was pulled from his own mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Joe offered from behind him, placing a trail of kisses up the side of his neck.

“You’re so far away tonight.” Nicky added, cradling Booker’s head between his hands.

“I...” Booker swallowed nervously. “I think today stirred up some feelings I thought I had buried and moved past.” He explained. “It’s so easy to forget that we’re not mortal when we’re living day to day like this with a family and with jobs that don’t take us to battlefields to fight off the worst of humanity. I think seeing the noose reminded me that this is all transient and that we’ll be here for a long time more. It made me feel guilty.” he admitted.

Joe ran a hand down his spine. “What is it that you feel guilt over, perhaps we can try to assuage it.” 

Booker turned his head down tears in his eyes. “I failed them. My family. How, how can I be happy with you and André when I failed them. I died trying to run away from a war wherein my death was supposed to bring them glory or at least peace. I came back and they were haunted by a secret I couldn’t share. I made them hate me. I made them think I didn’t love them.” He started hiccuping, his tears becoming full blown sobs bordering on hysterical.

“No, no, my love. You cannot blame yourself for such things. You did your best.” Nicky tried to console him. “You did not ask for it and while Yusuf and I are very grateful you were given immortality you must know it is beyond your control to share it.” 

“I know... I know... but maybe if I hadn’t gotten arrested or hadn’t gone to jail.” He argued. 

“There is nothing that can come from wondering what if. If you didn’t become immortal you would have never met us. More importantly without your immortality André would never have had the chance to live. You did the best you could for your family, even after dying you did your best to return to them. You did more than enough, and it was only perspective and pain that didn’t allow them to see that. Joe pleaded. “Sebastien, you are like shooting star. You bless those who are fortunate enough to see you with your light and laughter. You burn so bright that people cannot help but want to look upon you for longer and because you are good and kind you try to allow that. The struggle is that you burn so bright you sometimes rip yourself apart with your own light and fire. We’re just grateful to be given the opportunity to be with you for as long as we can hold on to your warm light.” It wasn’t Joe’s best speech but it was heartfelt. Joe accented every sentence with butterfly kisses down his spine. He realized in that moment that it might have been the first time he had one of Joe’s grand professions of love directed at him. They were usually reserved for stomping out bigotry with the power of true love and lately it seemed as if there weren’t nearly as many outwardly homophobic people to direct them towards.

“Thank you, Yusuf.” He finally answered, wiping his eyes. “I know it’s not my fault. At least logically I do. I think my heart just needs to catch up.”

“Take all the time you need, Sebastien. Talk to your therapist, perhaps she will know what to do.” Nicky offered. “We’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“Thanks, Nicoló.” he responded. Closing his eyes and letting his lovers guard him as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I think this series is almost done for the most part. There are two more stories I want to tell. One involving Andy and Quynh’s return and one involving André’s fate. It’s always possible I’ll find more I want to write but currently those are the only two vignettes I feel are missing.


End file.
